


Secrets Kept

by Valmouth



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: M/M, Rumour, Shame, Tragedy, keeping secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-03 00:14:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valmouth/pseuds/Valmouth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dwarves of Erebor still do not speak of elves. For Thranduil of the Greenwood took more than just their hope when he led his army away from the desolation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets Kept

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own no rights to these characters or to the books, movie, and various media portrayals they are derived from. I mean no offence by posting this and make no money from it.

The dwarves of Erebor remember a rumour. They do not speak it, for it is shameful and tragic and signifies much pain.

All dwarflings are told of the One before they even begin to grow to maturity. There are stories about famous romances, of love requited and unrequited, of desire dark and pure. There are stories about long marriages and short tragedies, of great deeds and small kindnesses, about hard work and sudden inspiration, of traditions and customs and, over it all, there are expectations.

There is the expectation that the One will be worthy, will be beautiful, will be strong and rich and whole and healthy. There is the expectation that the One will be a hard worker, a good provider, a protective force. Male or female, mild or assertive, fair or dark or copper-headed – all those are preferences. Dwarves are practical people within the confines of their secretive, discreet traditions. 

Dwarrowdams are few while dwarves are many. Many of their kin do not feel the pull to find their One. Of those who do, not all will find contentment with their fate.

Dwarflings also learn that the world can be cruel, or unkind, or simply thoughtless. They learn that the One is not a right but a blessing, not an end but a means. They learn most of all how to live alone, and how to find companionship if they cannot find love.

Which is why a dwarf rarely lives apart and cannot survive without a community. 

The community is family, and family is sacred. Aboveground, they are viewed with suspicion, with incomprehension or apprehension, or with dislike. Aboveground they are the naugrim, gold-mad and unwanted. 

They are too loud, too short, too broad-framed, too hairy, too stubborn, too violent, too rough, too many things that other races cannot understand.  

So all dwarves truly demand from a courtship is this – that the One be as they are.

But life, as all dwarflings learn, does not always follow expectations.

The Line of Durin ruled beneath the Lonely Mountain with complete assurity. Thror was strong and vigorous and proud, and his son Thrain was his match. Thorin followed in the style of his ancestors and there the story should have continued, ever unchanging, as it was for many generations. 

After all a dwarf may marry anyone, if not the One, or a dwarf may remain uncommitted and in his community. 

Thror married for an heir, Thrain married his One, and Thorin… Thorin was young.

He was young and had the time to choose. He had barely reached maturity, and had not yet reached his majority. 

The rumour is that he felt no foreboding the day the elves came.

The Elvenking came to view the Arkenstone, the Heart of the Mountain. He came to pay homage to Thror, King Under The Mountain, though dwarves are no fools and the haughty incline of Thranduil’s fair head was sterile diplomacy alone. 

The rumour says that Thorin set eyes on the Elvenking and was lost. 

There is very little else needed to turn the rumour to scandal.

All dwarves truly demand from a courtship is that the One be as they are but an elf is a shame beyond any secret dalliances with the women of the Men’s town outside their gates. 

To be young and curious is a trait not unbecoming in bawdy tavern innuendo but to be in love, to be drawn to offer everything of himself and his people and his proud family on his knees to an elven lord – there was no acceptance to be had for that.

Not amongst his kin, and not, so it was observed, in the young Prince.

He never spoke of more than contempt and dislike. When Smaug took their home and the elves turned away, his shame turned to hatred.

But wiser and older heads drew together, and whispered of how the hatred seemed to rage too strongly. Just so, they said, will a lover look when he is betrayed. 

Thrain’s presence in the world protected his son. 

Thorin attained his majority on the road, and passed his Coming of Age making horseshoes from corrupted metal in a Man’s village. 

There was talk of marriage alliances, of the exiled royalty willing to offer their bloodline in exchange for some semblance of the status stolen from them. There was also talk of violent words and savage threats spoken in the rude quarters that housed a fallen king and the shattered remnants of his family.

Thrain had two other children, and he knew contentment with his One. Nothing came of those plans.

The world turned, and it was indeed cruel and unkind and thoughtless. Thror died in fruitless battle, Khazad-dum remained for the orcs and the goblins, and Thrain disappeared, driven mad in his grief. 

Thorin earned himself acclaim for his courage and his strength, for his defeat of Azog the Defiler, but the dwarves of Erebor remembered the rumour and they continued to guard it with silence. The Line of Durin may walk in sunlight or moonshadow but any glory or shame was shared, and their people did not want to provide other reasons for the dwarves of other settlements to hold them in poorer esteem. 

The rumour lay submerged beneath a gathering of years, and the world turned. Dwarves may find their One, may marry for choice, or may remain alone. Dis, daughter of Thrain, sister of Thorin, married her One. Thorin remained alone.

He was odd; always travelling never stilling. Always mourning his lost kingdom and his rose-tinted memories of the glory of Erebor, so powerful the Elvenking himself came to be pay homage. Those older and wiser turned their eyes away and had more decorum than to refer to Thror’s gold-madness, to the lives the rest of them created for themselves – humble but often happy.

Over a hundred years later, the people of Erebor now trickle back to their fallen city, to their homes in ruins from the day the dragon came. 

There is no celebration to be had.

Thorin is dead, already interred in his tomb. His nephews and heirs too fell and are buried beside their king and uncle.

But there is another rumour. A rumour that an Elvenking paid homage to the last of the Line of Durin as he lay dying, and then laid an elven blade upon his tomb with his own hands. 

The rumour says that Elves do not bear romantic love for many in their prolonged lifetime. Like the dwarves, they may marry for their love, they may marry whom they choose, or they may love and never marry. There are stories, myths and legends, and the love elves bear may bring happiness or sorrow. May bring peace or war.

When the dwarves of Erebor return to their homes, they do not rejoice, because the rumour begins with shame, and only ends in tragedy, and the Elvenking returns to his forests with no outward sign that the last true King Under The Mountain will be more than a name passing through the years.

 


End file.
